t lust
satisfied more privately. I would have kept a dancer, and a whole
consort of Musitions in mine owne house, onely to fiddle thee. _Spa_.
Sir I was never whore.

_Lig_.

If thou couldst not say so much for thy selfe thou shouldst be
Carted.

_Tig._

_Ligones_ I have read it, and like it,
You shall deliver it.

_Lig_.

Well Sir I will: but I have private busines with you.

_Tig_.

Speake, what ist?

_Lig_.

How has my age deserv'd so ill of you,
That you can picke no strumpets in the Land,
But out of my breed.

_Tig_.

Strumpets good _Ligones_?

_Lig_.

Yes, and I wish to have you know, I scorne
To get a Whore for any Prince alive,
And yet scorne will not helpe me thinkes: My daughter
Might have beene spar'd, there were enough beside.

_Tig_.

May I not prosper, but Shee's innocent
As morning light for me, and I dare sweare
For all the world.

_Lig_.

Why is she with you then?
Can she waite on you better then your men,
Has she a gift in plucking off your stockings,
Can she make Cawdles well, or cut your Comes,
Why doe you keepe her with you? For your Queene
I know you doe contemne her, so should I
And every Subject else thinke much at it.

_Tig_.

Let um thinke much, but tis more firme then earth
Thou seest thy Queene there.

_Lig_.

Then have I made a faire hand, I cald her Whore,
If I shall speake now as her Father, I cannot chuse
But greatly rejoyce that she shall be a Queene: but if
I should speake to you as a Statesman shee were more fit
To be your Whore.

_Tig_.

Get you about your businesse to _Arbaces_,
Now you talke idlie.

_Lig_.

Yes Sir, I will goe.
And shall she be a Queene, she had more wit
Then her old Father when she ranne away:
Shall shee be a Queene, now by my troth tis fine,
Ile dance out of all measure at her wedding:
Shall I not Sir?

_Tigr_.

Yes marrie shalt thou.

_Lig_.

He make these witherd Kexes beare my bodie
Two houres together above ground.

_Tigr_.

Nay, goe, my businesse requires haste.

_Lig_.

Good God preserve you, you are an excellent King.

_Spa_.

Farewell good Father.

_Lig_.

Farewell sweete vertuous Daughter;
I never was so joyfull in my life,
That I remember: shall shee be a Queene?
Now I perceive a man may weepe for joy,
I had thought they had lied that said so.